


Radio (Un)Silence(d)

by vast_difference



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mostly Fluff, like a teey tiny bit of angst?, nothing to do with elinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vast_difference/pseuds/vast_difference
Summary: In the early days of their relationship, Bernie accidentally discovers a slightly embarrassing pastime of Serena's thanks to Jason's candor.





	1. Pull Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

> This would fit into the same universe interpretation as "Let Her Go," and could even be considered a continuation. (You know. If "Let Her Go" were finished. Oops. I blame The Muse.)

**Radio (Un)Silence(d)**

 

It was funny that in all the time they had known each other, there had never been cause for Bernie to ride in the car with Serena and Jason together. They had all been to Albie’s a couple of times and out for fish and chips, but Bernie had always followed Serena in her own tiny car. Bernie had been over to Serena’s for an occasional evening of dinner and telly, as well, in the month or so leading up to her hasty departure to Ukraine. Now Bernie had been back for four whole days, the majority of which had also been spent at Serena’s when one or both of them wasn’t working.

And what a four days it had been. The two of them had holed up in Serena’s enormous bed for upwards of twelve emotional, ecstatic, sweating, and sating hours between Friday night and Saturday when Bernie had to drag herself away to be on time for her shift at noon.

Bernie had emerged from Serena’s bathroom that morning in a towel after her shower to find her new lover sprawled across the bed on her stomach and snoring softly. Bernie tried and failed to stifle a laugh; she felt giddy with the prospect of what had started between the two of them, and maybe just a little haughty that she had exhausted Serena so thoroughly. Oh, but who was she kidding? _It’s going to take more than a double shot to keep me on my feet today_ , Bernie thought to herself as she attempted to follow their shared trail of shed clothes to her own knickers and bra. Tops, she imagined, neither of them had gotten more than four hours of sleep. And that was broken up into at least three increments and a dozen orgasms between them.

Serena may not have kissed any girls in Stepney, but what she lacked in practical experience she made up for in both enthusiasm, and according to Serena, bloody _research_. Bernie got hot and bothered all over again just thinking about that particular fact, even as she had given up on finding her own blouse and was now searching through Serena’s overflowing closet for something that wouldn’t be immediately familiar to any of the AAU staff. Bernie found a dark green one that she had never seen, and since she was quite sure she could remember every single ensemble that Serena had ever worn in her presence, she thought it was probably a safe bet.

After pulling on her discarded socks and jeans, Bernie donned the blouse and checked her appearance in Serena’s full-length mirror. The sight of her own face made her do a double take; there was color in her cheeks and a brightness to her own eyes that Bernie didn’t even recognize. She blushed at herself for no apparent reason, and turned to look at Serena’s slumbering form in the bed again. Bernie smiled, her heart swelling with something she couldn’t yet voice aloud, and let her feet lead her where her heart bade.

Serena seemed deeply asleep, but Bernie couldn’t resist kissing her goodbye. She placed her own lips against Serena’s feather light, half hoping she wouldn’t wake and half hoping she would; after everything they had been through together, Bernie wanted to make sure that Serena understood she would be back. 

After only a few seconds, Serena purred a contented, “Mmmmmmm,” against Bernie’s lips and kissed her back. She opened her eyes and grinned sleepily.

“Good morning,” Bernie murmured and kissed her again, deeper this time, running a finger down Serena’s cheek.

“It is,” she answered as she wound her arms around Bernie’s neck in an attempt to pull her down into bed.

For a moment Bernie almost lost her resolve but pulled back just in time.

“Oh no you don’t,” she smirked, giving Serena one final bittersweet peck and standing to extricate herself from Serena’s embrace. “I know what you’re on about. If we keep this up, I’ll miss my whole shift.”

“Normally I’d say sod it, but given the fact that you’ve just returned to work…”

“… it wouldn’t be wise. I know.” The insinuation of Bernie’s absence hung in the air between them, and they both knew that it wouldn’t be the last time. The night had been a balm for the wounds of their separation, but the scars would need time to fade. Still, Serena smiled to show that hard feelings wouldn’t last and were in fact diminishing by the minute. Bernie returned it and headed for the bedroom door.

“Hurry back?” Serena called, which came out more tentatively than she would have wanted, before Bernie was out of the room.

“It’ll be late… probably half ten, and I don’t want you to feel like…”

“I’ll leave a lamp burning in the window. And Jason’s likely to be asleep by then, and neither of us are on tomorrow, and I thought maybe we could…” Serena trailed off, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. She looked down at the sheets. Maybe Bernie needed space after everything that had happened. _Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed_ …

“As long as you’re sure it isn’t an imposition… there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Bernie answered quietly, her own feet suddenly as interesting as the bedsheet had seemed to Serena. Now their eyes locked, and the satisfaction of being on the same page at last pulled both of their faces into ridiculously dopey grins.

“Then that’s settled,” Serena breathed. “I… have a good shift.” She had caught herself. _Steady, Campbell. You’re not there yet._

Bernie had caught it as well, but she didn’t let on. _Me too_. “I will. Enjoy your day off.”

By the time all was said and done, it had been closer to half eleven by the time Bernie made it home Saturday night since the red phone had rung when she had been fifteen minutes from clocking off; but she and Serena had easily picked up where they had left off. They proceeded to spend the following day sharing meals and watching telly with Jason, taking a walk alone in the unseasonably mild afternoon at the park near Serena’s house, their fingers threaded loosely together, and sharing drowsy kisses before snuggling up together to sleep at a decent hour since they were both on at nine Monday morning.

It was all so immediately domestic. But it felt nothing less than absolutely _right_ to both of them.

Their first shift together since they were _together_ together was less awkward than either of them would have expected. Familiar tension simmered between their interactions as always: a spark as they shared a glance over their computers or a crackle as Serena passed Bernie an instrument in theatre. But somehow the knowledge that it was acknowledged and could be properly channeled later on in the privacy of Serena’s bedroom took some of the edge off. _Some_ because the anticipation of said channeling also added another variable.

Still. It was preferable to the unresolved sexual chemistry and frustration that had led Serena to fawn like an adolescent in front of the entire ward and Bernie to take off running to an entirely different continent.

They had driven to work separately Monday morning; Bernie had left earlier than Serena, claiming that she needed to put something in the post before work. Serena suspected, though, that Bernie harbored concerns about the lingering hospital gossip surrounding their relationship and was therefore reluctant to caravan just yet. Serena had opened up about bits and pieces of it during their first night together, and Bernie had experienced bits and pieces of it coming around corners and standing unrecognized in the lift on Saturday.

But Jason was on Monday as well, though Alan had dropped him off since his shift hadn’t started until one. When he found out that Bernie would be going out for chippy with them and staying over yet again, though, he was resolute that they caravan home.

“But it doesn’t make any sense for Bernie to take a different car,” Jason had insisted when he came to his auntie’s office to wait for her to put the finishing touches on her paperwork. “We’re all going to the same places, and it’s a waste of petrol.”

“Jason, I’m very glad that you’re so environmentally minded as to be concerned with our petrol consumption, but has it occurred to you that maybe Bernie would like the use of her own car at her disposal?”

Jason turned to Bernie, who was only half paying attention as she typed an email. “Bernie, do you require the use of your car between now and tomorrow?”

“Sorry? Well, not particularly, but you never know…”

“Aren’t you and Auntie Serena on shift the same time again tomorrow?”

“I believe so…”

“Then that’s settled,” Jason declared. Both women just blinked and started at him as he started to walk out of the office. At the last second he poked his head back in, and added, “And you _still_ don’t move very quickly, do you?”

Both women blinked again, looked at one another, and promptly burst out laughing. They were still fighting off the sniggers when they met Jason impatiently waiting for them by the lift.

And that is how they found themselves piled into Serena’s relatively spacious Saab and on the way to the local Fish and Chip on a Monday evening. Jason had graciously allowed Bernie to sit in the front seat, which had shocked Serena to no end. Thus far in her acquaintance of Jason, he had not relinquished that position to anyone, even when Serena had asked. But he volunteered the seat to Bernie.

At Jason’s abrupt departure from the office, Bernie had saved the email she’d had in progress about the quarterly trauma budget as a draft. So she sat in the passenger seat, concentrating diligently to finish it on her phone by the time they arrived at the restaurant. Jason sat quietly in the back seat, Bernie assumed on his own mobile; Serena was absentmindedly humming along to the radio, which she often did in the car.

Bernie had never heard her sing outright, but she could tell based on what she had heard that Serena probably had a good voice when she chose to put forth the effort. Sometimes it was the classical station, sometimes it was 80’s rock, but tonight as it was most nights it was the Top 40. The affinity for modern pop always struck Bernie as a bit odd for a woman of Serena’s age and stature, but she never mentioned it. For some inexplicable reason Bernie found it adorable, and she was secretly afraid that Serena would put a kibosh on the sing-alongs if Bernie asked questions.

Occasionally Serena would meander into the words of a song, and she did during this particular one. Something about cars and bars and tattoos and some cities in America. Bernie was pretty sure she had heard it blaring over the speakers at Ablie’s a couple of times. She thought she may have even heard it in Kiev.

“Auntie Serena, why do you always sing along with this song? The words are such nonsense.”

Bernie glanced at Serena out of the corner of her eye, and she looked utterly caught out. But she recovered immediately.

“I don’t ‘always sing along with this song.’ It just happens to be on the radio a lot. And you say that about all pop music, Jason.”

“That is my opinion of most of it. But this one is especially ridiculous. And I’ve also heard you singing it in your bedroom in the mornings before breakfast.”

Now Serena’s cheeks were burning bright red, and she focused very intently on the road. Bernie knew she might regret it later, but she did her best to swallow a threatening snort and turned herself in the direction of the back seat.

“Do you mind if I ask what you think is ridiculous about it?” she asked Jason. Serena caught her eye with a look that clearly said _do not engage_ , but at the moment Bernie couldn’t bring herself to care.

“I know that on the whole young adults tend to be irresponsible, but the boy and the girl in this song are making some very poor life choices. Purchasing a car that is too expensive for them, snogging in the car when they could easily be caught out by the police, stealing mattresses…”

“For thinking the music ridiculous, you’ve certainly paid quite a bit of attention to the lyrics,” Serena observed pointedly.

“It’s hard not to since you sing them at the top of your lungs whenever you get the chance,” Jason answered back.

Now Bernie laughed outright. Oh, how she had missed these two. Obviously for very individual reasons Serena, but Jason on his own merit, and Serena and Jason specifically together for the likes of this very exchange.

“Sorry,” Bernie mumbled, though she wasn’t really.

“I think mostly that you sing it so much because you missed Bernie.”

Now Serena looked positively mortified. And Bernie couldn’t be totally sure since it was her own face, but she assumed that she probably did, too.

“Not that she misses you now since you’re here, but you know. Before when you were in Ukraine.”

“Well thank you for clarifying that point, Jason. Ah look, here already,” Serena announced a little too cheerfully upon pulling into the car park for the local.

Though no one mentioned any more about the song once they were seated with their food, the conversation remained a bit stilted for the first part of the meal. At first Serena could hardly bring herself to look at Bernie, and Jason did most of the talking. He told Bernie about some documentaries he had seen in her absence.

He particularly asked if she had any knowledge of U.S. treasury secretary Alexander Hamilton. Bernie didn’t have much, but after all, even in Afghanistan people knew about “Hamilton.”  She said she did know that the musical would soon be mounting a production on the West End. Serena hadn’t known that fact and voiced as much. It was the first thing she’d said since they came into the restaurant aside from ordering her food.

“I heard Morven mention it the other day,” Bernie explained. “She was saying that the tickets would be nearly as impossible to get here as they’ve apparently been in the states.”

“I’m sure,” Serena responded quietly, but now she would at least look at Bernie.

She could tell that Serena’s interest was piqued and made a mental note to pay close attention to when “Hamilton” tickets went on sale so that she could surprise Serena and Jason with them. Bernie gave Serena a small smile around her wine glass and Serena returned it after taking a sip of her own. Internally, Bernie breathed a sigh of relief.

She knew Serena well enough to know that she wasn’t over Jason’s comments in the car, or indeed over the incident that had spurned them. But they had reached yet another détente, one of what was sure to be several in the coming weeks over that particular elephant. No one said it was going to be easy, but this time no one was running. They would discuss it later at home. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Beethoven Lives Upstairs (Or at least sleeps there. Most of the time.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena makes assumptions. Jason asks questions. Bernie surprises both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some domestic fluff because canon is All Of The Sad right now, and IT'S NOT FAIR. *stomps foot and demands a lollipop from TPTB as compensation for emotional distress*

By the time Bernie, Serena, and Jason had finished dinner, their dynamic had shifted back to its more typical good-natured discussion and teasing. Wisely, Serena had turned the radio to the classical station on the way home. This invited some lively discourse between Serena and Jason on the differences between Beethoven’s earlier and later symphonies,  but luckily it involved no uncomfortable revelations about anyone’s innermost feelings. The last movement of the 9th was playing, and Serena marveled aloud at the depth that the choir added to the texture of the music.

“It’s heavenly. I wish he had written more choral material,” she mused.

“I much prefer his earlier symphonies to the later ones. I don’t mind the singing, but I enjoy the more traditionally classic structure that he pursued through the 5th.”

“Ah, now you see you and I are opposites on this point. I prefer the 6th through the 9th. The ‘Pastoral’ is just about the point where he shifted into that more romantic paradigm. Although one could make the same argument for the 5th.”

“Have you sung this one, Auntie Serena?”

Bernie had been paying attention to their back and forth, but now she turned to look at Serena intently. There were still so many things the two of them didn’t know about each other, and Bernie was just as fascinated by the minutia as she was by the obvious.

“Yes, in the choir at Cambridge my last year, combined with the symphony,” she answered, feeling Bernie’s eyes on her. “It was one of my favorite works that we ever performed.”

Bernie finally broke her silence. “I take it you’re an alto.” Serena set her a sidelong glance, and her eyes crinkled with her smile.

“How ever did you come to that conclusion?” Serena wondered, purposely dropping her voice low enough to drip with even more sensuality than usual.

“Wild guess,” Bernie smirked. “One or two?”

Serena’s eyes went a bit wider, and she paused before answering; she was starting to wonder how much Bernie knew about music to be asking such specific questions.

 “One when I was in college, but two on the rare occasion when I’ve sung divisi alto in the last ten years or so. I did in church when I still went to church, but that’s been years.”

Bernie nodded, but didn’t ask any more questions. That was interesting; she and Serena hadn’t talked much about religion at all. _So much to learn_.

 Jason, on the other hand, wasn’t quite ready to drop the topic.

“Bernie, do you prefer Beethoven’s earlier or later symphonies?” he asked.

Serena had just pulled into her own driveway, but put the car in park and turned to await Bernie’s answer. She was just as reflexively eager to learn the nooks and crannies of Bernie’s interests.

“As it happens Jason, I’m not overly familiar with Beethoven’s symphonies.”

Serena let out a tiny laugh before she could help it. She couldn’t say she was surprised; Bernie hardly seemed the type to be a classical music aficionado. She then surprised both Jason and Serena by continuing as they all climbed out of the car.

“But of course, his piano repertoire will always be his greatest legacy. I realize that probably puts me in a minority camp, but nothing else compares to it in my book.” She smiled smugly and paused to take in both auntie and nephews’ matching dumbstruck expressions.  As she started walking toward the front door, Bernie added as casually as could be, “Well, maybe Lizst. Or Debussy.”

Jason immediately probed for details, while a pensive Serena unlocked the door.

“Do you prefer the concertos or the sonatas? I personally like the orchestral support of the concertos,” he explained.

Bernie thought for a moment. “The sonatas, and as a matter of fact… for the opposite reason. You don’t need anyone else to play a piano sonata.”

“That’s a very interesting point. Which sonata is your favorite? I am rather partial to the _Pathatique_ …”

As the three stepped into the entry way, hung up their coats and removed their shoes, Jason and Bernie continued what turned out to be a surprisingly intricate discussion of Beethoven’s piano library. The depth of Bernie’s knowledge betrayed more than a casual acquaintance of the instrument, and Serena hardly knew what to think. Not wishing to stick her foot in her mouth any further, she mumbled something about opening a bottle of wine and excused herself to the kitchen while Jason and Bernie continued toward the living room to prepare for _Countdown_.

 

As Serena grabbed a new bottle of her favorite Shiraz from the wine rack, she felt guilty for involuntarily pigeonholing Bernie’s potential interests. Because if Serena had learned anything about Berenice Griselda Wolfe in the past nine months, it was to never, _ever_ underestimate her.

Paradoxically, Bernie’s chronic discomfort with expressing emotions never stood in her way of being an expert reader of both people and situations; on both those points, she was often five steps ahead of everyone around her. Her memory was phenomenal, and she pulled obscure references out of nowhere and concocted patchwork solutions on the ward more times than Serena could count. She supposed that such skills must have been a great asset to Bernie as a field surgeon. Without a doubt she was both well-traveled and well-read, and as Serena was quickly discovering, possessed many hidden depths.

Shaking her head at the puzzle before her, she put on a kettle of tea for Jason and poured two generous glasses of Shiraz for both Bernie and herself. She found Bernie already settled on the couch and Jason in his preferred armchair, but their musical discussion had not yet lost its momentum.

“What do you think of _Moonlight Sonata_?” Jason was asking while Serena handed Bernie her wine and sat down next to her, a hairsbreadth between them but not touching. “I like it, but I often feel it is overused on television and in cinema.”

Bernie smiled at his sensible observation, and Serena seemed to be waiting with baited breath to hear her response.

“I agree, it tends to be overplayed. Well, the first movement, anyway… that’s the one everyone’s heard. Though it’s still quite evocative when played well. I prefer the work as a whole, with the full three movements intact.” She fixed her eyes on Serena’s before continuing. “Especially the third movement. It’s so…” Bernie took a drink of her Shiraz and licked her lips in a very deliberate manner, her gaze unwavering “… passionate. Don’t you think so, Serena?”

“Um.” Serena took a rather undignified swig of her own drink and then feigned her best impression of nonchalance. “Well, yes of course. Beethoven is the very soul of passion, after all.”

“You certainly know a lot about Beethoven’s piano pieces, Bernie,” Jason remarked. “Do you play at all?”

“Oh, you know… _a little_ ,” she answered casually. But Serena narrowed her eyes. She knew that tone; Bernie had a distinct way of minimizing her own accomplishments when she wanted to divert attention away from herself.

“I must go and get my tea now,” announced Jason abruptly, effectively closing the discussion at least on his end. “ _Countdown_ will begin in less than three minutes, and I don’t want to miss the advertisements.”

Once he was in the kitchen and Serena was sure he was out of earshot, she turned to look at Bernie again. She was sipping her own Shiraz, cool as you please, pretending to pay steadfast attention to the recently unmuted telly. They were already sitting close, but now Serena lifted Bernie’s knees to bring her legs to rest across her own, and pulled her flush against her around the waist.

“Ms. Wolfe, I do believe you’ve been holding out on me.”

Bernie’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Ms. Campbell, whatever do you mean? I think I’ve been the very definition of ‘easy’ all around in the last few days, don’t you?”

Serena smoldered. “You _know_ that’s not what I mean. The piano. Why didn’t you tell me you played? I’ve an antique baby grand sitting in the other room, and you’ve never said a word.”

“I said I played a _little_.” Bernie smirked, turning back to the telly and taking another drink, but Serena quickly put a finger to Bernie’s cheek to bring them face to face again.

“Yes, and I know exactly what that means in Bernie-ese. I know that look.” Now Serena held Bernie’s face in one palm, brushing her thumb along her cheek.  “For God knows what reason you obviously wanted to keep it a secret, but you’re probably some kind of a bloody prodigy, aren’t you?”

Bernie’s smirk grew wider; but before she had a chance to answer, they could both hear Jason finishing up in the kitchen. Bernie simply leaned in and teased Serena with the brief taste of a kiss just before Jason returned with his tea, and they both knew that meant silence was expected immediately. At least he didn’t seem to object to their canoodling as long as they didn’t interrupt his program. Small blessings.

Serena extracted her arm from around Bernie’s waist to place both of their wine glasses on the end table for the time being; she reached for the pale blue afghan on the other side of Bernie and pulled it over both of them. Bernie snuggled closer to rest her head on Serena’s shoulder, having turned out to be an unexpected but very welcomed cuddler. Serena began tracing soothing patterns on Berine’s back, and she answered with a contented hum and  smiled up at her girlfriend. But the kiss to her nose and loaded grin Serena returned conveyed in no uncertain terms that Bernie’s past with the piano was to be revisited at the next available opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is almost categorically impossible for me to write a fic and not involve music in some way. This chapter ended up merging a long-time headcanon of mine into an existing story, because I've had this theory that Bernie is secretly a full-on piano prodigy for MONTHS. I don't want to give too much away, because I want to let her explain it herself. And also, I have always assumed that Serena has a piano in her house, and I will not be convinced otherwise. FIGHT ME.

**Author's Note:**

> Not British. Maybe ridiculous? Yada yada yada.
> 
> Can I be British?? A giant orange cheeto is taking over my country in five days. FUCK. I need all the distractions I can get.


End file.
